


Mysterious Ways

by lizandletdie



Series: 500 Follower Promptathon [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Church AU, Fluff, so G rated it's not even funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1825207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandletdie/pseuds/lizandletdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt fic wherein Belle French finds a man crying on the steps of her church, and offers him comfort in the form of a cup of coffee at the diner only to realize he may not be the only one in need of companionship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompted:  
> Belle finds a man crying in the stairs of her church. He cries fro his son.
> 
> I hate that I have to do this, but apparently I do. If you're reading this fic anywhere besides AO3, it was posted without my consent and likely profited someone else. Please consider [donating](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_donations&business=CZNGXGNP4PRX4&lc=US&item_name=The%20Mantis%20Fund&currency_code=USD&bn=PP%2dDonationsBF%3abtn_donate_SM%2egif%3aNonHosted) or swinging by my Tumblr (standbyyourmantis) to let me know what you thought!

She was, as usual, the last one leaving the building.  It was getting awfully close to Easter and as the director of the children’s program, Belle had her hands pretty full.  She’d had to check lighting and repair the costumes from last year and make sure the music was queued correctly and all that on top of her regular full time job as librarian.  She really couldn’t wait until the holiday was over, then she’d be good until Mother’s Day.

Not that Belle didn’t like doing the programs, she just really wanted to get home before 9:30 at night and maybe have a glass of wine on her sofa.  That sounded really nice right about now, actually.

She locked the front door and prepared to make her way home when she noticed an odd shape on the steps.  It was a man, she realized, sitting on the steps of the church and shaking.  It wasn’t particularly cold out, so he must be in a bad way.

"Sir?" she said, making her way cautiously towards him.  Her conscience wouldn’t let her ignore someone in need, but just the same she didn’t want to be on the news for being murdered the week before Easter, either.  "Sir, are you okay?"

She reached out and touched his shoulder and he jumped, staring at her as though he hadn’t noticed her speaking to him.  He had been crying, she realized, not shivering.  And his clothes were nice, so not homeless. Still, though, he was obviously in a bad way to be sitting here sobbing.  She didn’t recognize him from services, either.

"I’m sorry," he scrambled away from her, wiping his face on his sleeves as he did.  "I didn’t realize anyone was still here.  I’ll be going."

He reached for a cane and began to pull himself to his feet.  She grabbed his other arm and helped him up, more to have something to do than because she thought he needed it.

"Are you sure you’re alright?" she asked.  Her odds of getting home in time to do anything but fall into bed were evaporating before her eyes, but this man clearly needed something.

"I’m fine," he said archly.  "This is just a hard time of year for me is all."

"Would it help to talk about it?"

He shrugged, turning away to stare up at the cross above the door of the church and she followed his gaze.

"It’s just…" he finally said, his voice so soft she would have thought she imagined it if she hadn’t still been so close.  "Why does he get to have his son back?"

"Sir?"  She looked at him quizzically, willing herself to understand his pain, wanting desperately to help him and not knowing why.

"It’s nothing, Miss," he said, taking a step back and offering her a stiff bow.  "I apologize for frightening you."

As she watched him descend the stairs, Belle knew she had to speak.  She had to do something to get him to stay and to talk, because she’d never seen a man need a shoulder to cry on more in her life and Belle was surprised at how much she wanted to be that shoulder or how intrigued she was by the pain she’d seen in his dark brown eyes.

Glancing to the diner across the street, she made her choice.

"Would you like to get some coffee?" she called to him and he froze, turning around.

"Coffee?"

"I haven’t really had dinner yet," she explained.  "And there’s a diner across the street and I was wondering if you’d like to have something with me?"

"Why?"

"Well," she shrugged, bounding down the stairs with a good cheer she didn’t quite feel.  "It’s just that you seem lonely right now and honestly so am I.  And I thought maybe we could just be lonely together, for a few hours."

He offered her a brittle smile, seeming as though he couldn’t quite decide if her charity was genuine or not, before he answered.

"Coffee," he finally nodded.  "I can do coffee."

"My name is Belle, by the way," she stuck her hand out and he took it gently.  "Belle French."

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss French," his smile was genuine now, the shadows having cleared out except for the ones remaining in his too-sad eyes.  "I’m Arthur Gold."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the man crying prompt!: What happened in the dinner or Belle invites Gold to participate in mass/meeting, to horror of all the people there. Thank you.
> 
> (Belle's church is loosely based on the one I grew up in, which was Catholic with a pretty badass priest and yes we REALLY had all night Easter vigils where different groups presented on the Creation story all night)

The children were shuffling around at the back of the church, nervously waiting their time to go up and give the final presentation of the Easter Vigil. Her kids were small enough that none of them had been here for the other six days of Creation, but they were all twitching with excitement at the prospect of doing the seventh day — God resting. It…wasn’t exactly going to be Shakespeare in the Park, but they were happy and if they were happy Belle was happy.

She peeked through the doors, seeing the crowds of churchgoers patiently waiting for the lights to go up and the signal for the children to file in to start.  Among the faces, she caught the one she’d been looking for.  Arthur Gold was seated towards the back, as far into the corner as he could get looking just as uncomfortable as she’d thought he would.  She shot him a little wave and he threw her a relieved smile and waved back.

She’d invited him the night she found him crying on the church steps, but hadn’t been entirely convinced he’d actually show until he was here.  At dinner, she’d found out he was actually a very charming man once you got to know him.  He was funny, too, though with a rather dark sense of humor that Belle found more amusing than she probably should admit to.

He’d sat in the seat across from her and sipped coffee while she had a burger and they’d done nothing more than talk to each other, a waitress who came by every so often to refill their coffee and ask if they needed anything as their only other disturbance.

As late night turned into early morning, a strange sort of intimacy had begun to develop between them over slices of subpar pie.

"So tell me about your son," she said with a forced casualness.  She wanted to know, but she didn’t want to spook him either.

"There’s nothing to tell, really," he said with a shrug, staring into the depths of his coffee.  "I lost him."

"That could mean anything," Belle pointed out.  "It could mean he’s gone missing, or dead, or just doesn’t want to see you."

He chuckled bitterly at that, and offered her a sad smile.

"He’s one of those things," he replied sadly and she decided not to push him again, instead setting her hand over his and offering a gentle squeeze.

"So what about you?" he asked, after staring at their hands for a long time.  "Why is a pretty young woman like yourself so lonely that she’ll invite a strange man to coffee on a Sunday night?"

"It’s the same as most everyone’s story, I guess," she said, finally conscious of how long she’d been touching him and moving her hand back under the pretense of taking another bite of her pie. "I work too much and then when I’m not working I’m in charge of the children’s program at church and there’s just never enough time to meet new people who aren’t eight."

"You’re a teacher, then?"

"Librarian," she corrected.  "I work at the library in town."

"Ah, so you’re a pretty young librarian who loves children and attends church regularly," he teased her gently.  "Perhaps I’ve fallen into a novel and not realized it."

"Perhaps," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.  "Or maybe I’m just too good to be true."

He laughed, but they fell into a a comfortable silence after that.

"You should come," she said finally.

"Beg pardon?"

"To the mass on Easter," she explained.  "The children have been working on a presentation for a couple months.  I was just going through their costumes today to make sure they were in one piece."

"I’ll think about it," he said warily, as though not quite sure whether she meant her invitation or not.

And yet here he was, seated as far away from the rest of the congregation as possible, but still here.  Finally, the signal was given and the children made their way up to the front.  A few cues were missed and one little girl got stage fright and ran into her mother’s arms before the song was over, but all the errors had only added to the charm and mass was able to begin.

Once all her children were settled in with their families, Belle naturally found her way over to where Arthur sat alone and plopped next to him in the pew.

"It was a lovely performance," he whispered in her ear.  His breath was warm and gave her a strange sort of shiver.

"Thank you," she whispered back.  "The children put a lot of work into it."

He smelled nice, she noticed.  Comforting, warm, vaguely spiced.  He also had very little idea what was going on, but allowed her to lead him through the sitting and standing and kneeling and to flip the pages of the hymnal through to the correct passages at the right time so he could keep up with the music.

And if she noticed a few of the busy-body older ladies tsking behind their hands at the much older man the librarian had clearly invited, well, Belle was a big enough person to ignore them and focus on her new friend instead.

By the time the recessional was over, she knew she’d like to see him again although perhaps not at church for awhile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so did I let this go a long time or what?
> 
> Anyway, here it is: The disgustingly fluffy ending to this story that I always MEANT to write.

Traditionally, weddings weren't supposed to take place during the Lenten season, so when Arthur Gold had finally summoned up the courage to propose to Belle French, marriage on the anniversary of the first day they met had been completely off the table. So instead, they went for the anniversary of their first proper date.

It had taken nearly all of his courage to even ask her, and he didn't think he'd ever borrowed so many damn books from the library as he did those weeks between Easter and Memorial Day when the only way he had to see her smiling face was to visit the library. And she had always smiled. That was the very best part of Belle – she was always happy to see him, even when he wasn't always happy to be himself. Asking her to lunch on her day off had been a terrifying endeavor, but she had simply smiled and assured him that she'd love to eat together and that she always enjoyed his conversation. Lunch had turned into a matinee had turned into dinner and a kiss on the cheek at her door. He'd been so stunned he almost didn't make it home that night, because wandering around realizing that she had intentionally kissed him – on purpose! – seemed like a much better option.

That date turned into another date, and another. He started accepting some (but not all, not yet) of her invitations to join her at church. She never pushed him, and never once blinked at the gossipy old hens who stood around clucking about such a pretty girl dating a man old enough to be her father. She was goodness and light and second chances and he loved her. He who had never thought to love again. He _loved_ her. _He_ loved her. It was that revelation more than anything that gave him a solid reason to wake up in the morning, a reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

He had to be a better man, because Belle deserved a better man. He had to survive his grief because Belle loved him and wanted him with her. It was a process, but it was one that he was motivated by every single day.

So, a year to the day after they first met, Arthur met Belle after the childrens' rehearsal on the same steps on which she had saved his life and invited her for a burger.

“Were you waiting for me, Arthur?” she said teasingly, slipping her arm through his and letting him lead her away.

“Of course I was,” he replied before kissing the top of her head. “Some things in life are worth waiting for, after all.”

She fixed him with a radiant smile at that and they walked in silence to the diner where they once again had pie and coffee and talked about everything and nothing.

“It's been a year, you know,” he said as nonchalantly as possible. He didn't want to give away the game yet. “A year since we met, I mean.”

“Has it?” her voice betrayed nothing, but her eyes were dancing at him over her mug of coffee and he knew she remembered.

“I thought you were an angel for a second, when I first saw you I mean. Who else would come talk to a stranger on the steps of an empty church the week before Easter?”

“First of all,” Belle said with a giggle. “It clearly wasn't _empty_ because I was still in it. Second, you did not think I was an angel!”

“I most certainly did,” he leaned forward and kissed her lips quickly. “You were certainly beautiful enough to be one.”

“Flatterer,” she replied but he could see the blush creeping across her cheeks at the compliment anyway.

“There was also a street light behind your head,” he admitted. “And your hair was frizzing out enough that it looked like a halo for a split second.”

“Frizzy hair sounds infinitely more likely,” she replied.

“I'm still not entirely sure that you aren't really an angel,” he said softly. “Anyone else would have pretended not to see me. They certainly wouldn't have invited me for coffee, at any rate.”

“And it would have been their loss,” she placed her hand over his and squeezed it gently. He loved this about her.

“Be that as it may,” he said, reaching into his pocket for the ring he'd kept there. “They say that God works in mysterious ways. Out of all the churches in this town with all the stairs that I could have chosen to sit on to grieve at all the times of day of all the days of the week, I somehow chose the one that led me to you.”

Her eyes had grown wide at the sight of the diamond, and he could see her mouth struggling to work as he spoke. He held her left hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, but he had known it would. He'd been smart enough to take her jewelry shopping for Valentine's day. He'd been preparing for this.

“Marry me, Belle,” he asked finally. “I can't promise to always be the man you deserve, but I can promise to love you every day of the rest of my life, if you'll have me.”

She didn't answer right away, at least not verbally. Instead, she yelped and leaned over the table, throwing her arms around him and kissing him hard.

As nice as that was, he still wanted a proper answer out of her.

“Belle, darling,” he prompted. “I can't marry you unless you answer me!”

“Yes, of course, you silly man!” she said into the side of his neck where she had buried her face in his shoulder. “I wouldn't have anyone else but you.”

Maybe they wouldn't be the stuff of legend, but Arthur was fairly sure no man had ever been so happy as he was. Or that any man ever would be again.

 


End file.
